He’d thrown me out onto the moors, believed me to be a witch, let me face that danger alone. How could he really love me? But he had come to my rescue time and time again, told me his secrets, let me into his safest place. Whatever the truth about his feelings, mine were certain. I loved him.
But as I looked up at him and thought of his betrayal, the words stuck in my throat. And so I kissed him, throwing myself against him with all the passion I could muster. He moaned into my mouth as his fingers tangled in my hair, the kiss so deep that my mouth ached. My hands slid under his shirt, almost of their own will. I shifted my hands along the smooth skin of his back, clutching him even closer to me. He moaned again - or did I? - and our steps began leading us to the stairs.
I broke away from the kiss, grabbing his hand to tug him up the stairs. I could not help but laugh at the expression on his face, a mixture of longing and apprehension. Right there on the narrow stairs, I stopped to kiss him again, savouring the moment that his body relaxed and softened against mine.
We needed no more words. We fell onto the bed, lips and hands all over each other's bodies. My dress slipped from my shoulders in seconds, his breeches and shirt following. His body covered mine, keeping me warm against the chill. I kissed his shoulder, his neck, cried out against his chest. And, at last, he held me tight against him as he drifted off to sleep. I lay awake a little longer, my mind drifting through tangled webs of thought.
Love. Did Theo truly love me? Could I trust him not to forget these feelings as soon as the danger ended?
Daniel would never approve of the match, not when there was such a risk that Theo only wanted my money. I groaned softly into the pillow. Theo had never shown any interest in my money. But these bed linens were fine and soft, and I already knew his expensive taste in wine. What if he was just another fortune-hunter, albeit an unconventional one?
And could I truly be thinking of marriage? To a man of no importance, a man I barely knew? It would be the scandal of the century. Even I, dismissive of scandal, would find such an act life-changing. Acquaintances would cut me in the street, party invitations would cease coming to my door. Even Daniel would be forced to shun me, at least in public. I might have the money to do as I liked, but did I have the courage?
I sighed, shifting to lie with my head on Theo’s chest as I gazed into the darkness.
Now was not the time to make such lofty plans for the future. First, we had witches to kill and this stone to find. After that, I could decipher whether the love I felt was true.
With my thoughts and fears swimming in circles in my head, I drifted off to sleep. And that night, for the first time in days, I took control of my dreams.
There’s no more time, Daniel told me. Act now or lose him forever.
You do not understand, I said, sending him images of the witches as they rose out of the fog. I felt his horror and revulsion - and, for the first time, his doubt.
It’s not worth it, Lily, he said. Come home. We’ll find another way.
Not worth it? Had it not been Daniel who had pressed so hard for this mission to be a success?
I cannot leave yet, I told him. There are things I must do.
I twitched and woke, lying in the darkness with Theo’s breathing a steady rhythm beside me. My quest to save my master. My desire for my lover. Which love was true?
Training
“You have to hold steady,” Theo said, his voice as patient the fifth time as it had been the first.
“You expect me to stand still while you wave dangerous implements close to my head?”
I threw down the heavy silver candlestick that Theo had given me as a makeshift weapon.
“I don’t know what you want to achieve,” I said, hearing the frustration in my voice. “But this does not seem a productive way to teach me anything. And how can you be sure the witches are not right here watching us?”
“I know,” Theo said, his face blank. “My instincts never fail me. Well, except for once.”
I laughed without any humour. Mistaking me for a witch; what a failure that had been.
“You said you wanted to stop running,” Theo continued. “What else can you do but fight?”
I scraped my sweaty hair back out of my face.
“This is not my kind of fighting. There must be another way.”
“This is the only way I know. The only way I have ever known.”
Theo’s eyes were serious beyond the level demanded by the conversation, and I wondered where his thoughts had drifted. To his family’s past battles with witches? To the horrors he had, no doubt, seen himself many times?
“Let’s try once more,” I said, my voice softer. Theo smiled at me, a rueful quirk of his lips that made him look younger. How old was he? I had at first thought him to be a man in his thirties, but the more time we spent together, the more I reconsidered that initial judgement. Perhaps he was not much older than I was myself.
We worked our way through the motions once again, my sluggish body trying to move with the speed that Theo demanded. There were no more smiles; he seemed a man entirely focused on his work.
“I can do a much better job of defending myself now,” I said at last, breathing hard. My dress was soaked through with sweat and I thought ruefully of the entire room full of beautiful dresses I had left behind in London. In this state, my own butler would probably refuse me entry.
“But what about attacking?” I continued. “I can’t hold the witches off forever, no matter what protective chants you teach me, no matter how many times I swing this candlestick.”
I brandished it for extra effect. “I need to know how to kill a witch.”
Theo shook his head, turning away from me. Did the man only communicate with nods and shakes?
“Listen to me!” I demanded. “Teach me how to kill a witch.”
“You’re not ready,” Theo said.
I laughed in his face, relishing the shocked expression as his controlling mask slipped.
“I know more about death than you will ever realise, Theo. Teach me.”
He sucked in a deep breath, watching me carefully.
“Let’s go back inside,” he said at last, casting nervous glances across the moorland that rolled out around us. So much for his eternal faith in his own instincts.
Once we were safely inside, he turned to face me, his hands gripping my shoulders so tightly that I was tempted to wriggle away.
“Promise me you won’t leave here intending to kill a witch,” he said solemnly. “It’s too dangerous. I will teach you, but only in case you have no other defence. If you attack a witch directly, you are unlikely to walk away with your life. My father failed at the last, and he had spent his entire life preparing for that attack. Do not think this is something you can do easily, no matter what else you've learnt.”
I nodded slowly, the fear in his words tugging at something deep inside me. Theo was a man who understood death as well as Monsieur Lavelle. He had much to teach me.
“I told you before that only a weapon forged by another witch is strong enough to kill a witch,” he began, before stumbling to a halt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have never had to explain this to anyone before. My words are a little clumsy.”
“You are hardly addressing an experienced audience,” I said wryly. “Please, simply tell me what I need to know.”
“I have a cache of such weapons here in the house. They have been gathered over generations, collected from defeated witches. You have already seen my dagger.”
Of course. The silvery dagger he had brandished on the night we escaped from Mrs Pender at Killston Hall.
“That dagger will kill a witch?” I asked.
He nodded. “The problem with such a weapon, however, is that it requires the wielder to approach the witch closely enough to stab. It is rare to get so close to a witch without her awareness. That’s what I meant, Lily. Setting out to try to kill a witch would be tantamount to suicide.”
I had a great deal to consid
er.
“What other weapons do you have?” I asked. “Would any be suitable for a young lady to use?”
Our eyes met, and we both burst into laughter at the absurdity of the question. Witch-killing weapons appropriate for the most elegant of London debutantes. What a world I had wandered into.
“I cannot think what would qualify as suitable,” Theo said. “But I will show you my collection, and you can judge for yourself.”
My fingertips almost tingled in excitement at the thought of having such items to study. Magical weapons had not, so far, entered my scientific orbit. What new things might I learn?
When Theo pulled a box from the bookshelf in the study, I raised an eyebrow. A box disguised as nondescript books. Not entirely original, but intriguing all the same. After the wine cellar under the kitchen floor, I wondered what other secrets this little cottage might hold. He emptied its contents onto the desk, and I frowned down at them. After a second of hesitation, he placed the silver dagger alongside. Where in his clothing did he keep it hidden that I had not seen it earlier?
At first sight, it was an unimpressive collection. Flint arrowheads, like those that every antiquarian kept handy to inflict on anyone foolish enough to express a polite interest in ancient history. A slender knife, such as a cook might use for delicate jobs. A length of twine. I had hoped for powerful crossbows, great swords. I could not help but feel somewhat let down.
But when I reached forwards to touch the twine, I pulled back in shock, vivid sparks still fizzing through my veins.
“What was that?” I asked, my eyes wide as I stared down at the odd cluster of objects.
“I can only imagine that the magic affects you rather strongly,” Theo said, his voice strained.
This time, I braced myself and grasped the twine with all the firmness I could muster. To my relief, the strange sensation was entirely bearable with this small preparation. I crossed to the window, holding the strand up to the light so I could examine it more closely.
At first glance, it seemed like any other piece of rough garden twine, brown and drab. But the longer I looked, the more I saw. Tiny sparks of light danced along each fibre, almost invisible, as faint as the colours I sometimes saw at the edge of my vision. When I repeated the process with the kitchen knife, holding it up near the windowpane, I saw those same fleeting sparks. Eyes narrowed, I committed the sight to memory. I would recognise a magical item if I saw one again.
“I wish I had my laboratory,” I said, thinking aloud. “I am certain that the correct tests could reveal a great deal about these items.”
“I suspect we do not have the time for such a luxury as a trip to London,” Theo said, his voice dry. “Let’s resume training. If you plan to be useful enough that I won't pack you off on the first coach home, then you need a weapon. Can you use a bow and arrow?”
“It has been a few years since I even tried,” I admitted. The sport was fashionable amongst young ladies, but I rarely found time for such games. “I imagine that I still remember the fundamentals.”
And so, I found myself spending an afternoon practising with a bow in Theo’s yard. We had no arrows to spare, not when it was such a risk to retrieve them from the moorland, which made it seem rather a futile exercise. Still, it gave Theo many opportunities to wrap his arms around me as he instructed me on correct form and posture, so I did not complain. Once I returned home, there would be no more such chances. I had not anticipated quite how much that thought would hurt.
Blood on the Stones
Perhaps the witches had been watching our activities and disapproved. Perhaps we had unwittingly stumbled onto an important date of longstanding significance. Regardless, it became apparent by dawn that I would not have a second day of training.
When Theo opened the shutters of our room - his room, I should not think of it as mine - we saw immediately that thick fog shrouded the entire cottage, blocking our usual view of the surrounding hills. Theo’s frown was as dark as any I had yet seen on his face.
“This mist is different,” he said. “Can you sense it?”
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, tasting the fog as carefully as I would test any new medicine mixed in my laboratory. Theo was right. A metallic tang filtered through this fog, bitter in my mouth.
“Blood,” I said.
Theo cursed softly beside me. “What have those damned creatures done now?”
“If someone is at risk, we need to help them,” I said, already pulling on my dress.
Theo grabbed my arm, holding me still. “What happened to finding your stone and returning home as soon as possible?”
I shrugged, enjoying the freedom of such an unladylike gesture. “I did not fully understand the situation. My new plan is to help you defeat these witches, then find the stone and return home as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” Theo said, dropping my arm. “Get dressed and meet me by the kitchen door.”
He grabbed his shirt and breeches, striding down the stairs without another word. I stared after him for a second, then scrambled to dress as quickly as possible.
By the time I met him in the kitchen, his face had settled into the expressionless calm I had come to think of as his hunter face. As I met his eyes, no trace remained of my laughing lover and caring friend. I knew he would let nothing come ahead of his mission - and his revenge.
He tossed me a bag.
“I’ve packed you the twine and the knife, along with a little food, in case we find ourselves separated.”
“What’s the plan?” I asked him.
He shrugged, mirroring my gesture from a few moments earlier.
“Until we know what’s happened, how can we have a plan? Try not to do anything too stupid.”
He swung the door open and marched out. I shook my head, doubting myself for a moment. Why did I take orders from such a reckless man? But my feet did not share the doubts of my mind. I found myself following him out onto the moors, where the fog twined around us like heavy white silk. I coughed to clear the stench of blood from my nose, and together we trudged onward.
Even with the deadening effect of the fog, every little sound seemed amplified. I jumped at each loose stone that tumbled from the path, gasped at every rustle in the bracken. Theo grabbed my hand and squeezed it reassuringly, but I still could not relax.
I didn’t know where we were going, but it was easy to follow that trace of blood in the air as it led us across the moor. Could Theo taste it as well as I could?
“Where are you taking me, Rosa? Can you not explain?”
The voice drifted through the fog and I stumbled to a halt, gazing up at Theo in horror. Sir Philip was out here - with Mrs Pender. His voice held no fear, only confusion. Could the poor old man still not see? Did he love her so much that he was utterly blind?
I lunged forwards, ready to do whatever it took to save him, but Theo pulled me back.
“Not until we work out what’s going on,” he muttered. “If you jump in there now, you’ll get both of you killed.”
I bit my lip. However much I hated to leave Sir Philip alone, Theo was right.
We edged onward, moving more slowly now that we knew the witches were close by. Strange shapes loomed out of the fog and I jumped, the knife clutched in my hand, but nothing moved. They were just stones.
“We’re at the old stone circle,” Theo murmured, a deep frown wrinkling his brow. “This is a dark place. We should not have come.”
“Rosa, what on earth is going on?”
Sir Philip stumbled into what I now recognised as the centre of the stone circle. His back was to me, but from his confident posture, hands on hips, I could tell that he was still not afraid. I opened my mouth to shout a warning, but closed it again at the last second. Figures had materialised in front of me, dark shapes filling in the space between stones. It looked as if the entire coven had attended. Thankfully, those witches close enough to see us through the fog had their backs turned away as they focused on Sir Philip at
the centre of the circle.
I turned to Theo in horror. I dared not speak with the witches so close, but I saw the same fear on his face. Whatever my cousin had stumbled into, we might not be able to save him.
“I’m sorry, Philip,” Mrs Pender said, no trace of remorse in her voice. “You held up your end of the bargain well. But things have changed, and now we need your blood more than we need your protection.”
“Blood!”
Sir Philip’s voice finally sounded alarmed. Too late.
The witches began to chant, their bodies swaying as one as they moved around the circle. This time, I screamed, not caring if they saw us - but no sound came out. My body did not move. I was frozen, trapped in the magic of the witches’ chant. I could not even turn to look at Theo.
“Blood on the stones will bring us strength,” Mrs Pender said, her voice low and monotonous. “A sacrifice will bring us power.”
The witches' chant grew louder and louder, the strange harmonies settling into my blood. I knew this song. I felt it twisting and growing somewhere deep in my memory. I began to hum, letting the song vibrate at the back of my throat, my body swaying. And then, suddenly, I could move again. I threw myself forward with a scream, knife raised, and the circle dissolved into chaos.
Hands grabbed at me as I slashed wildly with the knife, fighting my way through towards my cousin.
“Sir Philip!” I screamed. “You have to run!”
But he did not even turn to look at me, did not flinch. He still seemed frozen, unmoving.
“Run!” I screamed again, throwing all my fear and desperation into the word.
I could do nothing but stand and watch as the world turned into a bloody nightmare around me. Mrs Pender raised her arm, a vicious knife clutched in her hand. I lunged towards her, but I was too far away, and the witches’ chant kept me sluggish. The last few words of the chant ripping from her lips in a screech, Mrs Pender plunged the knife into Sir Philip’s chest, and tore. Blood spurted from his body, obscenely scarlet against the white of the fog. He stood there for a second, staring up into Mrs Pender’s face, and then he collapsed.
Witchfog Page 13
